


Mr. Sandman

by iqom



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, If you wanna be my lover, M/M, Multi, PapyMettaSans, Porque No Los Dos, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spitroasting, Texting, Threesome - M/M/M, Wet Dream, mettasans, mettaton what u doin, papyrus is just tryna fuckin sleep, papyton, really bad sexual puns, sans wat u doin, you gotta get with my brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 19:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iqom/pseuds/iqom
Summary: Mettaton and Papyrus are married on the Surface and Mettaton couldn't be happier. Papyrus loves and provides for him, and Mettaton wants nothing more than to do the same...And yet, he can't help but notice that Papyrus' brother is... intriguing. Funny, sometimes. And kinda hot.





	Mr. Sandman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keyozee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Keyozee).



> I've started taking oneshot requests in the Papyton server for people's birthdays because I love writing gift fics! And so...  
> Glorious day of birth, Keyo! I hope this relationship dynamic (particularly the one between Mettaton and Sans) ascribes to what you requested.

_here’s a good joke. whaddya call me texting you, because i’m seriously dtf rn?_

Mettaton’s eyes slid from his phone screen over to Papyrus. He was fast asleep beside him; a serene expression on his face and exhaling small ‘nyeh’s with every outbreath. His soul swelled as he watched his husband for a moment. He looked so peaceful there. His bony arm was draped across Mettaton’s lap like a seatbelt, strapping him protectively to the mattress.

Mettaton considered not texting back. Only for a moment.

 _DTF?_ Mettaton responded, deciding to play dumb. He received an eggplant emoji in response.

_Ah. What do you call it, then?_

_a robooty call. heh_

Mettaton cracked a half smile. He knew Sans was only joking with those salacious little remarks. Nothing would ever-- _ever--_ come of Sans’ suggestive nature towards him.

Mettaton was married to Papyrus. His first love. He cared deeply about the excitable, ebullient skeleton; almost as much as he cared for himself. Both he and Sans would never seek to hurt Papyrus in any way.

So, it was jest. Banter between in-laws.

But then, why did Mettaton feel so guilty?

_Hilarious. Really makes me wanna… bone you._

_oof that was terrible i love it_

Papyrus shifted slightly, grunting in his sleep, and Mettaton nearly dropped his phone in a panic. He sat frozen in place, bristling as his husband nestled deeper into the blankets. When finally convinced that Papyrus was fully asleep, he returned to his phone.

_Goodnight, Sans._

_night, mtt. dream a lil dream of me, eh?_

Mettaton erased his message history and set his phone aside before slumping down into the bed, cocooning himself in Papyrus’ arms, the sleepy sensation of electrical charge trickling into his nearly empty battery pulling at his heavy eyelids…

* * *

Mettaton dreamed often of kissing Papyrus. Usually, he covered the skeleton’s skull in a shower of kisses; cheekbones, forehead, teeth, jaw stamped with black lipstick. It was sweet and domestic and sometimes led to other, more delicious scenarios if Papyrus reached for Mettaton’s waist, pawed at his thighs, massaged between his legs...

This time, Mettaton cupped Papyrus’ face and pressed their mouths together with heated earnesty. The kiss held a fiery desperation that Mettaton was unused to in dreams. Straddling him, he pushed his tongue between his lover’s teeth, matching Papyrus’ high-pitched whine of satisfaction with a long, rumbling groan.

There were hands gripping Mettaton’s wide hips, guiding him as he rolled against Papyrus’ pelvis. “O-Oh… oh, _M-Mettaton_ …” Papyrus stammered, his voice a needy whimper as his arms ensnared Mettaton, pressing their bodies together ribs-to-silicone--

There were two pairs of hands grasping him.

Two pelvises grinding against him.

“Heya, Mettaton,” a familiar voice rumbled in his ear, gruff and yet delectably playful. A shock of pleasure racked Mettaton’s body like rolling thunder and a sharp moan escaped him, swiftly silenced as Papyrus tangled his phalanges in the robot's tousle of dark hair and connected their mouths once again.

“We all know you love Papyrus, but it’s kinda hard not to notice how much you want me,” Sans continued as Papyrus’ tongue explored the cavern of Mettaton’s mouth, “You wanna have your cake and eat it too... I get it.”

Mettaton gasped, breaking the kiss as Sans’ hand slid to between his legs from behind and teased the soft, synthetic flesh gently with tapered fingertips. Mettaton slumped forward, burying his face in Papyrus’ collarbone, spreading his legs wider on the mattress as Sans traveled upwards at a dizzyingly slow pace. His fingers stopped between Mettaton’s cheeks, preparing him by rubbing out rivulets of pleasure until the android’s body began to shake in his anticipation.

“Honestly, though? Why not have both?” Sans chuckled as Mettaton gasped and trembled, whining into Papyrus’ neck.

“I w-want you both,” Mettaton managed, “So…so bad… p-please…” He found himself delirious, head spinning, his body crying out for more stimulation.

“That means you’ll have two skeletons to satisfy, my star,” Papyrus murmured, smoothing Mettaton’s hair lovingly with his palm, “You sure you’re up to the task?”

“Just tell me what you want, darlings,” Mettaton groaned as Sans massaged his haunches behind him, spreading him apart to admire the view, “I-I’ll do anything…”

Papyrus wiggled out from under Mettaton and sat up on his knees before him, offering his glowing orange cock in his hand. Mettaton accepted greedily, enveloping the tip in his mouth.

“Good man,” Sans grunted from behind. Mettaton heard Papyrus moan above him as he relaxed his throat, inching up his length until his nose brushed against pelvic bone.

Sans rewarded him by slipping his fingers inside him, ever so slightly, to just below his distals.

A low moan rumbled in Mettaton’s throat-- prompting a sharp intake of breath from Papyrus-- and he pushed his hips backwards onto Sans’ hand as he bobbed his head, desperate to have those fingers buried inside of him. Sans laughed softly, amused by Mettaton’s eagerness, and to the robot’s dismay he removed his fingers at once.

“Why don’t we flip him around?” he suggested to Papyrus, who in his giddy ardor was just beginning to rock his pelvis against Mettaton’s lips, pushing himself even farther down his husband’s throat.

“A f-fin-- fine idea, b-brother--” Papyrus stammered, giving Mettaton’s mouth one more gentle push of his hips before pulling away. Mettaton exhaled wetly as Papyrus’ cock left his mouth, panting as Papyrus guided the robot in a half-circle on the mattress until his face was positioned before Sans’ member. It was glowing a light azure color; a nice juxtaposition to Papyrus’ sunny orange.

Sans cocked his head to the side, staring down at Mettaton. His bawdy grin spoke volumes; primal hunger, wicked desperation. It only spurred Mettaton on further, alighting a new fire within him as he felt Papyrus, slick with his saliva, pressing against him from behind.

Sans slipped two phalanges into Mettaton’s mouth and he began to suck, eyes fluttering shut. “Nuh uh,” Sans muttered, parting Mettaton’s teeth by opening his fingers like a scissor, “You gotta open wide.”

Mettaton did so, obediently. He felt Papyrus’ hands on his waist, his fingertips digging into the silicone flesh, as the tip coaxed him apart...

“ _Bone_ appetit,” said Sans, and Papyrus thrust his hips with brutal force, pushing Sans’ cock roughly down Mettaton’s throat.

Papyrus let out a strangled cry; Sans moaned, and Mettaton’s soul began to thud powerfully in its container, bursting with excitement and showering the inside of the plexiglass with pink fluid. Papyrus was frenzied, erratic, chasing orgasm; every shove of his hips jerked Mettaton’s head up and down Sans’ length. Mettaton relaxed into the movement, letting his jaw fully drop, allowing the brothers to use him with no extra effort necessary on his part.

His cock was sore, now, aching painfully; Mettaton couldn’t stop a loud wail from escaping around Sans as Papyrus reached under him and tended to it.

Sans gripped Mettaton’s hair, fisting it, the thick black strands straining against the synthetic nerves and sending delicious prickles of pain across his scalp. Mettaton felt the end approaching faster than he had intended; he had no way to hold it back and frankly, no desire to. He’d never been more in desperate need of release. His body was shuddering between the two skeletons as the pressure built in his core, growing and coiling and constricting, he was wailing around Sans now and the ministrations of this throat tipped the older skeleton over the edge.

As Sans’ hot gratitude welled up and dribbled down his throat, Papyrus bent over Mettaton, crying his name as he swiftly followed suit and emptied himself inside of him.

The end hit Mettaton suddenly-- finally-- like a hurricane. His mind went blank, his sight went dark, and all he could manage was a wordless, wet, impassioned howl of ecstacy--

* * *

Mettaton awoke with a gasp, hot steam billowing from the vents on his cheeks, rousing Papyrus from his slumber as he sat up with a start.

“Mettaton?” he mumbled sleepily, “Are you alright, dear?”

Mettaton was silent for a moment, steadying his breath. “Y-yes, darling. Just… just a dream.” He grew suddenly aware that his thighs were sticky and he clamped them together, hoping Papyrus wouldn’t somehow take notice.

To his great relief, Papyrus didn’t press him further; he instead flipped over on the mattress, surrendering again to the soft pull of drowsiness.

Mettaton blinked, mouth parted slightly in his astonished stupor. Perhaps he would have stayed like that all night, staring blankly into the blackness of the dark bedroom, if his phone hadn’t lit up with a new message notification on the nightstand.

Mettaton knew who it was from. Somehow. He reached over, hand trembling, and opened the message.

_mr. sandman… bring me a dream…_

**Author's Note:**

> https://iqomton.tumblr.com/


End file.
